


Furendship Day

by bittymirror



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Equius Zahhak/Nepeta Leijon Moirallegiance, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gen, Meowrails, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Sollux Captor/Aradia Megido Moirallegiance, aradia pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27390034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittymirror/pseuds/bittymirror
Summary: Aradia, Nepeta, and Sollux enjoy a day of pampering and platonic love! And attempt to get Equius to join in...
Relationships: Aradia Megido/Equius Zahhak, Nepeta Leijon & Equius Zahhak, Sollux Captor & Aradia Megido
Kudos: 14





	1. Feelings Without Quadrants

“Look, I made a cat!”

You pause, stilling the brush over your nail, and glance over. Nepeta had added 4 paired thin black lines, two dots, and a rotated “3” to the blue base of her thumbnail. The effect really did look like one of her cat drawings.

“Aww, Nepeta, that’s so sweet! It looks really good.” You look back at your own red-tipped fingers and give them a wiggle. _Maybe she’ll paint one on me?_ Before you can even begin to formulate a question, Sollux sighs exaggeratedly.

“Yes, yes, it’s adorable. Now can you please give me back the black?” A coating of white polish overlays the nails of his left hand, his right nails still the soft gray of his skin. Nepeta seals the container, places it on the floor, and bats it over with a curled-up hand.

“Purr thing, Sollux! I can’t wait to see how your kitty turns out!” she exclaims.

Stifling a grin, you turn your attention back to your own nails while Sollux vehemently denies any plans of cat-related ornamentation, which only causes Nepeta to tease him harder.

It’s the first day of the perigee, which means its friendship night at Nepeta’s hive. Oh, wait, furendship night. Regardless of the nomenclature, the important thing about the night is the strengthening of platonic bonds between trolls through ritualistic cosmetic personal care. At first, only you and Nepeta would participate in the application of deep-sea floor mud to your cheekblades and the careful brushing and styling of each other’s hair. Then, on a furendship night not too long ago, Sollux, who had been ceaselessly trolling you all day, showed up outside Neptea’s hive when you failed to respond in (what he considered) a timely fashion. He can find you anywhere as long as you are logged into Trollian. Essentially, he burst in on you and Nepeta putting lipstick on each other and wanted in on this luxuriofest.

This particular night of self-care was all about claws and hair. You had put on an absolutely enigmatic romance film (courtesy of Karkat) and you all got to work brightening up your fingers and toes. You’ve all gotten quite good at painting your nails, Nepeta especially. She’s always trying new designs and patterns, largely centering around cats and cat-related paraphernalia, from balls of yarn to pawprints. They always turn out so cute. She is a little more adventurous when it comes to personal appearance than you are. You prefer to stick to various shades of red. You always have. Red is your favorite color after all.

Looking around her block, you admire the overwhelming red of the room, punctuated, of course, by her redrom shipping wall. Looking at her wall always makes you smile. Your friends were painted with such care, and you were impressed with Nepeta’s attention to detail, both in her drawings in her observations of others. She had recognized you and Equius as matesprits long before you had ever considered that a possibility. Sollux and Feferi were on the concupiscent side of the wall too, much to his chagrin when he first came over. He apparently thought he had done a pretty good job of hiding his feelings for her, at least from everyone but you. You fondly remember the many long talks you’ve had with Sollux in various piles about his red feelings. Did Equius and Nepeta have such talks too? You can’t imagine how patient she must have been with him. It’s hard enough getting him to talk about them with _you_ , the recipient of said feelings. 

Sollux calls your name, and you look up to see his black and white nails being displayed for your admiration.

“Those look great Sollux! It’s a nice change from the red and blue.”

He brings them up to his face, tilting them back and forth in the light.

“I don’t know, AA. I’m not sure if I’m really feeli-“

A pounding knock resounding on the door of Nepeta’s respiteblock interrupts his musings.

Sollux rolls his eyes behind his glasses and sighs heavily.

“Will someone _please_ tell him to stop fucking knocking every 5 minutes?!”

You hop up, your skirt settling around your bare feet. You skip over to the door, then pause before opening it to look over your shoulder.

“Sollux, please be patient with him. He’s really trying.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but nods, turning to Nepeta and presumably starts a conversation similar to the one so rudely disturbed.

You pull the door open to face Equius’s gloved fist, raised to knock once again. He flushes, and quickly lowers his hand.

“I-hello, Aradia. I was-Do you need anything? Any of you?”

“Hi, Equius. Thank you for checking on us…again…but we still don’t need anything.”

He absentmindedly twirls a lock of his hair in his bare fingers, avoiding direct eye contact. You’re pretty sure he is at least; it’s a little difficult to tell under his dark glasses.

“You know you can just come and sit with us, right?” you ask gently, twining your hand with his own to prevent him from damaging his hair.

“I am aware of the standing invitation to join you for friendship night-“

“FURendship night!” Nepeta calls from within the room. Damn, she has really good hearing. Probably explains how she knows so much about other people’s feelings before they do.

“Excuse me, furendship night, but that would leave the hive defenseless. Who knows what kind of ruffians might unexpectedly descend upon us when we least expect it?”

You give his hand a firm squeeze.

“We didn’t invite you here as a bodyguard! We invited you as a friend. Equius, we would absolutely love for you to come in. I would love it. Please”

The drops of sweat beading on his forehead begin to trail down his nose. You know you are asking a lot of him. His absolute terror of physical contact, no matter how slight or accidental, overshadows all of his interactions with others. Entering a confined space with three other bodies of fragile flesh is foolhardy at best. You see him glance over your head into the room. He’s probably calculating the amount of space he will need around him to ensure no one is within the reach of his outstretched arms. To minimize potential harm to the others. So much of his time is spent on minimizing himself. He’s confessed to you, perigees ago, with a whispered creaking voice, that he sometimes wishes he could lose himself to void. After the hemospectrum hierarchy became essentially defunct, he felt like the framework of his world, of his life, toppled down into a messy pile of undeserved arrogance and unwarranted condescension. The first 6 sweeps of his life were built around nothing more than arbitrary propaganda. Without the status afforded to him by his blood, what was he? Equius rushed ahead with his explanation, barely taking a breath in between the words racing out from between his broken teeth. He believed the answer was found in his classpect. He was nothing. He would inherit nothing. He knew he could. He heard its call every day, in every moment of silence and solitude. This was the most he had said to you for so long, you didn’t know how to process his words. You just slid his glasses off his face, looked into his deep blue eyes shining with tears, and pulled him to you. You held him, wordlessly, feeling his body shake with his heaving sobs. You fell asleep in each other’s arms. And you promised yourself, no matter how long it took, you would stay by his side until he felt worthy of love.

He clears his throat and you snap out of your reverie. Sweat drips down his arms. His palm is coated where it touches yours.

“I-I would also greatly enjoy joining you. If you are certain I will not disturb you?”

In answer, you pull him inside. He trails behind you until you plop down back into your spot on the floor. You don’t let go of his hand, and he hesitates, but he sits beside you. Nepeta shouts gleefully as soon as he does.

“Equius! Yay! This is the best Furendship Day ever! Look at my nails!” As she speaks, she crawls towards you until she is practically in Equius’ lap. She shoves her hands into his face. He smiles a soft smile and lifts his glasses to get a better look.

“How delightful, Nepeta. The cats remind me of you.”

She strikes a pose, curling her fingers up near her face to resemble paws.

“Like, nya?” She sticks her tongue out while tilting her head up at him. Equius laughs, and your chest tightens. He laughs so freely with her. You look over to your own moirail. Sollux has vacated his spot on the floor and is now…sitting? on the couch. You don’t know if you can call what he is doing sitting, exactly. He’s somehow managed to complete invert himself, so his feet dangle off the back of the couch and his head points down to the floor. His legs and torso are pressed against the cushions, and he just can’t be comfortable like that. He catches your gaze and calls out to you.

“Aradia! Come here and brush my hair,” he asks/demands while shaking his short locks out to hang upside down by his ears. You place one hand on Equius’ shoulder and push yourself to a stand. He glances up to look at you quickly, then returns his attention to Nepeta. She appears to be pretending her hands are cats and is making them attack Equius’ ankles. Sollux “ahems,” and you make your way over to the couch. You sit down in front of his face, crossing your legs.

His silk-smooth hair flows between your fingers, cascading rivers of black. You don’t bother to grab your comb; Sollux’s delicate scalp could not _possibly_ bear the rough teeth scraping mercilessly across it. He also thinks it’s kinda creepy, being made of bone and all. You’re 90% sure it isn’t troll bone, what’s the big deal? Despite his slightly ridiculous stipulations, you carefully dislodge the tangles around his horns and smooth his stubborn moobeastlick. You shimmy your legs forward to get your knees up against the couch and pull his head down to rest in your lap.

“OUCH! Careful, AA, you’re gonna pull my damn head off,” he blusters, twisting his head (much much more than you had) to try and intimidate you with an utterly unintimidating glare. You pap his forehead twice the way he likes and continue to brush out his hair. His protestations fade and you feel the weight of him collapse into your thighs. Your hands find their rhythm and that funny thing happens where your breathing synchronizes with his, so easy and so _right_ , and you close your eyes.


	2. Anwers Without Questions

Sollux jerks awake, slamming your heads together.

“Fucking SHIT!” he shrieks.

Falling asleep anywhere but his recuparoocoon makes him skittish. Falling asleep upside down makes him…indignant. With an energy that can only be described as “feral,” he tumbles off the couch and jumps to his feet, glasses askew and that pesky moobeastlick sticking straight up again.

You rub your head and decide to lay down on the carpet. You’ve had enough sitting up for now. Horizontal is good.

“AA, why the fuck did you fall asleep? Your giant head gave me a concussion!”

You flap your arm about in his general direction, managing to make contact with his bony ankle.

“Whatever, dude. You fell asleep too. How long have we been out?”

You hear him pull out his palmhusk, drop it, and pick it up again.

“It’s been like…30 minutes?”

Rolling onto your stomach, you part the curtain of your hair to look over to where Nepeta and Equius are sitting. Or, that is, where they were sitting.

“Oh, gross, they left me alone with you.”

Sollux drops down next to you and grabs your hand.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you too. Pet me some more.”

He lifts your hand to his head, and you oblige his, frankly, adorable whims.

“I wonder where they went,” you muse. It must be somewhere close; Equius wouldn’t leave you alone for long, gog bless him. Maybe a different room in Nepeta’s hive?

Your ministrations are cut short by Nepeta’s sweet high-pitched voice echoing through the main hallway of her hive. She’s singing, and you recognize the familiar tune of the Itsy 8itsy Spider, but she seems to have replaced all the words with “meow.” It’s oddly charming. Sollux snuggles a little closer into your side, and you grunt while you readjust your arm to a pretty uncomfortable angle to continue stroking his hair. As they draw closer to her room, you can hear the heavy footfalls of Equius’ steel-toed boots punctuating Nepeta’s melody. It sounds like they’re approaching from the direction of the meal block, but you can’t remember if Equius has made any more additions to Nepeta’s intricate network of interconnected caves. When construction is as simple as punching holes in the wall, memorizing the layout isn’t super conducive to knowing where the fuck anything is.

Nepeta stops singing for a moment, and when she resumes, you can hear Equius softly humming along.

“Aww, how sweet. We’re being serenaded.” Sollux actually heaves his lazy torso off the floor a few inches, only to feign a dramatic swoon back into your prone form. You scrabble your hands at his back to push him off, but he collapses his full body weight onto you.

“Sollux! Get! Off!” you yelp.

“Oh my, I can’t possibly bring myself to move in my delicate state,” he drawls, his entire body somehow the consistency of jelly. Stupid jelly boy.

“Stupid jelly boy! You can LITERALLY move yourself with your MIND!”

You’re about to give up when he finally rolls off you, laughing that little snorty laugh that involuntarily brings a smile to your face. You flick him between his lasciviously waggling eyebrows and crawl to your knees, stretching your arms above your head and cracking your neck a few times.

Nepeta flings the door open and leaps into her room, hands raised above her head.

“WE’VE GOT GRUBCAKES!”

She jumps to the side and holds her arms in a horizontal v-shape, presenting a clearly startled Equius holding two trays of still-steaming buns to the room. He’s so obviously desperate to pull his towel from his back pocket and wipe down his face, especially now that all attention in the room is on him. Instead, he awkwardly shuffles forward and places the trays, which you now see are shaped like the head of Nepeta’s lusus, on a slab of stone. More importantly, you notice that Equius’ hair is neatly braided down the back of his head, bangs pulled out of his face and tucked behind his ears with green clips securing them in place. The muscles of his jaw are tight, as they usually are, but without the visual barrier of his hair, the tension he holds in his face is striking. Every feature of his face is more striking, actually. His angular nose, upturned at the tip, his high cheekbones, stark and pointed beneath his skin, the familiar lines around his mouth you’ve traced with lips and finger. With a deliberate conscientiousness he wipes his brow, and your heart twinges at how much he doesn’t want anyone to notice what he’s doing. He’s probably already aware of your attention, so you look over to Sollux.

Somehow, he’s already at the table and stuffing grubcakes into his mouth. You roll your eyes and saunter over to the food, and your friends. Nepeta is picking apart each pastry in her uniquely peculiar way, moving each small bite of food to her mouth pinched between two fingers. By now, Equius’s face is…less…sweaty, and you intentionally brush against him while grabbing a cake. He’s so stable, (fuck, you hope that doesn’t count as a horse pun) it makes you want to try and knock him over. As casually as you can, you lean your entire body weight on him. Equius shoots you a confused glance. It feels like you are resting on a brick wall. With, you admit, significantly reduced casualness, you lean into him more. One might even call it pushing into him.

“Aradia. Um. Is everything…alright?” He speaks soft and low, only for you. He’s still steady on his feet. You don’t even feel him leaning back into you.

“Yeah, everything’s good. These grubcakes are delicious! Thanks for bringing them, love.” You hope he can’t hear the effort in your voice. He nods, and takes a cautious bite of the cake he scooped up to rest in his flat palm.

“Nepeta is an excellent pâtissier. She directed me well in the kitchen.” With a few swift chomps, he eats the rest of the cake. After dusting the crumbs off his hand, he crosses his arms and clears his throat. Oh gog, he must be so uncomfortable right now. But you are determined, and you are persistent. Defenestrating all sense of decorum, you place your hands on his arm, brace yourself with a straight leg, and shove with all your might.

He’s moving! A little, at least! Okay, he’s actually just turning to face you.

“I apologize for asking again, but, Aradia, are you alright?”

You give one last effort, but…you know it’s hopeless. Resigned, you drop your hands and blow the hair out of your face. Physically, you are absolutely no match for him. But you have other ways of throwing him off-balance.

“Well, now that you mention it. I really want to paint your toenails.” You beam up at him, and _oh, there it is_. That delightful blue blush dusting his cheeks.

“My…? If that is what you wish, my lady.” His blush continues to spread, down to his bared neck. You clap gleefully and bound over to the container of polish. He’s following you, you know he is. As you lower yourself to the ground, you tap to indicate where he should sit. Immediately, he sits, legs folded up to his chest and arms crossed, taking up as little room as possible. Grabbing one of his boots, you shake it around, trying to get him to straighten his leg. He casts another blank look at you, and you shake his foot a little harder.

“Can you straighten your legs?” you finally ask. He blinks, and, at once, complies.

“I apologize for the delay, I did not realize that is what you wanted of me,” he rushes out, an edge of panic in his voice. Your shakes shift to strokes, and you pet the smooth fabric of his socks covering his calves, almost unconsciously admiring the firm muscle underneath.

“Oh, no worries! That one was totally on me. Let’s get these off then, shall we?” you snap his socks and laugh a little at his indignant protest of your unbecoming actions. What if you stretch out the elastic?! Regardless, he unlaces his boots and rolls down his thigh highs, folding them neatly and placing them in a little pile next to his shoes. His toes flex, and you hear distinct crackling sounds. A little gross, but you’ve somehow become accustomed to gross. Become all about gross.

You exaggeratedly tap your chin in a pantomime of deep thought while you rummage through the polish bin. Even though you know what color you’re going to choose. GOG do you know it.

“Are you having difficulty in selecting a color?” he queries, tilting his face forward to peek over his glasses at the myriad of bottles.

Your hand shoots triumphantly into the air, fingers clutching the same bottle of bright red polish currently adorning your own nails. Smiling, you swivel your hand so the color is visible and hold back a snort at the sudden widening of Equius’ eyes, barely discernible behind his shades. He tries to play it cool, tries to not even acknowledge the beads of sweat cascading from his brow.

“Oh,” he rasps, then clears his throat, eyes locked onto the bottle.

“Oh. Are you certain that is the exact shade you would like to see on my hands?”

You lower your hand to meet the other and give it a few vigorous rolls to purge any air bubbles that may have formed in the last hour or so.

“Yes indeedy, certainly certain!” you chirp. He looks like he’s about to awkwardly ask some more halting questions, so you attempt to anticipate his concerns.

“And I am so so aware this is like, _my color_. And I know people will definitely look at your nails and be like, that’s not his color and maybe they’ll be a little weird about it, but I don’t care and I think you shouldn’t either! We can do whatever we want, and also I-“, here you find your words speeding up in spite of yourself, “kinda maybe am really into people knowing that we are a thing.” You exhale, because, apparently, you’ve been holding your breath.

Equius chuckles lightly and reaches over to brush an errant strand of hair from your face. He tucks it behind your ear and you marvel at his precision control while some deeper part of you is swooning.

“I would be honored to emblazon myself with your red. I…I think it is quite fetching. And the implications with regards to our relationship status are uh, agreeable as well.” His face fractures into a toothy grin, and you know “agreeable” isn’t even close to an accurate verbal representation of the flushed feelings he has for you.

The bottle is so definitely without random pockets of air now, so you unscrew the cap and set it on the floor. Unsurprisingly, Equius’ toenails are immaculate, each cut to the perfect length and filed to a smooth taper that mitigates any chance of accidentally scraping up your legs. Even the coarse hairs on his toes looks suspiciously smooth. Did he brush his toe hair???

Wait, are you supposed to brush your toe hair?

You don’t have much time to ponder these harrowing questions because the thick red liquid saturating the tiny brush you’re holding is about to drip. You whisper shit shit shit and move your hand just in time to catch the droplet before it hits the floor. Staring at the quickly spreading splotch on your hand, you wonder why the fuck you just did that. Nepeta’s floor is covered in random patches of colors, paint, charcoal, that ones’ definitely blood. You awkwardly rub your hand across the floor, but it doesn’t really do much to get it off.

“I swear I’m good at this,” you say in your best assertive voice. Equius holds up both hands in a placating gesture.

“I would never think otherwise.”

You square your shoulders and refocus on your matesprit’s well-groomed (perhaps _too_ well-groomed) feet. Why are you suddenly nervous? You’ve painted nails like a thousand times. You literally painted your own nails _today_. Your arguments are certainly logical, but you just can’t shake this weird anxiety. So you do what you always do.

Just see what happens.

Unsurprisingly, once you begin, your task goes smoothly. Your strokes are steady and sure, resulting in even coats and full coverage. When each nail is painted red, you wave your hand over his feet, encouraging the drying process to hurry it up a little. His pale feet do look really great with that nice pop of red on their tips.

Still waving your hand, you ask, “Does this actually do anything?”

He hums, a little habit he picked up to let you know he’s thinking and isn’t just ignoring you or refusing to respond or something equally unlikely that your brain lovingly suggests.

“Controlled airflow will aid in decreasing the setting time of the nitrocellulose. Whether or not your hand can produce enough force to significantly affect that airflow is another matter.”

You wave your hand around a little harder.

Soon enough, his nails are more dry than wet, and you apply the clear top coat. This entire time, he hasn’t moved, and up until your last stroke, he remains still. He’s been watching your movements intently, probably intending to replicate the process later on himself. Or maybe on you!

You give his leg a little smack as you proclaim, “All done!”

He nods his approval, and you see him start to curl back in on himself. Before he can fold up again, you sprawl across his legs. You really did intend just to stop him, but once you’re there, feeling the soothing coolness of his bare skin against your back, you sigh and nestle into him. There’s no sense in wasting an opportunity to relax in your beloved’s lap.

“You like it?” you ask, looking up at his chin. He ducks his head to meet your gaze and nods stiltedly.

“It’s a beautiful color. And your application skills are impressive.”

“Aww, thanks!” You turn your head into his flat stomach and wiggle your face against his shirt. It’s nice to be enveloped like this, all your senses attuned to him, his smell, his taste, his sound. His touch. Your body turns toward him and you bend your knees to gather yourself in close. One great lumbering hand is tracing the curve of your neck, stroking down your arm. He’s so tense, you want to say something, to praise him and let him know he’s doing a good job, but he needs to do this on his own, he needs to know inside himself, from himself, that he’s good. You won’t say anything, but you sigh contentedly and relax a little further into him.

A few pets is all Equius can stand, and he soon stills his hand on your shoulder. You feel him breathe deeply, stomach rising and falling. You feel the heavy sighs as he exhales, a breeze against your scalp. You flop back over so you can look up at him, and startle a little to find him looking down at you. His eyebrows furrow and his jaw sets. You smile at him, and he relaxes once more.

“Would it be amenable to you for me to call upon you at your hive this night?”

Woah. Equius asking to come over? He’s been at your place plenty of time, but thinking back on it, you’d always asked him. Is this the first time he’s ever asked? You remember how he politely knocks at your door instead of bursting in like you do. How he takes off his shoes and waits for you to ask if he wants something to eat or drink. How he awkwardly announces that it’s getting late and how he should probably get going before you invite him to stay over. There’s so much meaning to this question, and you want to take it very seriously and solemnly but…

You scream a little with delight and squeeze your arms around his thin waist. He’s alarmed, arms moving to hover over you warily, and you take advantage of his uncertainty to (FINALLY) knock him to the floor. Rolling around, kicking your arms and legs, you chant YES YES YES and find Equius pinned beneath you on the floor, eyes wide, braid starting to come undone, and still a little unsettled.

“Fucking exhibitionist bullshit, get this shit out of here,” Sollux mutters so you and everyone else can hear. Nepeta giggles, and you sigh, waving your hand to psionic the grubcake out of his hand. Then you bend down to place a little kiss on the tip of Equius’ nose.

“Yes. Very much amenable.”


End file.
